


Beneath the Trees Where Nobody Sees

by Elsewhere



Category: Mighty Boosh RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-10
Updated: 2010-12-10
Packaged: 2017-10-13 14:41:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsewhere/pseuds/Elsewhere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noel and Julian through the years with enough fluff for a whole candy floss factory. I know the bear in those photos isn't Noel's, it's just a "what if..." Written for a Secret Santa request in 2009 for the blue-boosh comm on LJ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beneath the Trees Where Nobody Sees

  


Fights like this shouldn't happen when there are people around to see. It's private. It's a stupid _stupid_ argument whipped up to something vicious because he's stubborn and Noel is arrogant and neither of them wants to be the one to apologise first. He doesn't even have anything to apologise _about_ , he thinks fiercely as he's pacing round the kitchen with his fingers curled into tight cramping fists, but then he accidentally remembers the way Noel flinched as if he thought Julian was going to lamp him one and the fight floods out of him.

He sits on the edge of the table, stretching the ache out of his hands. His ruined shirt is still there where he dropped it on the lino to chase Noel through the flat, down the stairs, out into the courtyard where they yelled it out; all the frustration of endless work getting them nowhere, they spat it in each other's faces and screamed it at the stars like that was going to help. That's when Noel threw the handful of flyers he'd been sorting right in Julian's face. Julian didn't know what to do after that. It felt like the full stop at the end of the sentence. Stupid petty helpless aggravation condensed into that one pathetic little action.

It's so uncomfortably tense in the flat now, it's like swimming instead of walking. Julian flicks the kettle on then flicks it back off because the shop's shut by now and there's no coffee. He goes into the living room but it's a tip in there, it's scattered with flyers and Noel overturned the ashtray on the arm of the chair in his haste to get away from Julian's wrath, so he turns round and comes straight back out again. Lee escaped after the shouting stopped, of course he had to sit around to hang out of the window and listen in, but Julian can't get up the energy to go after him. It's not like there's nowhere to go in Edinburgh. It's a sort of less offensive, much prettier London - lights on all night, places to drink, people to see, constant music - and anywhere in the world would be better than being trapped in this poky flat when little princess Fielding is in one of his moods, but not sorting problems out is how you get to the point where a ruined shirt you don't even like that much makes you snap.

They played an epic drunken Twister tournament when they moved all their crap in to decide on bedroom arrangements. Double acts get double rooms, Lee informed them like it was an actual rule, but Julian wanted his own and so the fight was on. Lee won anyway so it was all pointless, and now Julian has to spend his nights on a paper-thin mattress that's more springs than stuffing, listening to Noel whinge and fart in his sleep and wondering whether anything is worth it. The door is shut now, Noel _never_ shuts the door. He must have slammed it hard because a piece of blu-tac has come loose and the poster he's stuck up of some show Julian's heard of but never seen is hanging by one curling corner. He fixes it back in place and wonders whether to go in. Good intentions and road to hell and all that. It would be so easy, just _stopping_. There's all this buzz and excitement building up around the act, and some kind of mental magical spark that's been there between them since that first night they met, but the hate he felt earlier, and the hate blazing hard and harsh in Noel's eyes when he threw his handful of papers and yelled _I hate you_ for the whole city to hear and then flinched away from the clenched fists Julian didn't even raise, was so strong it sort of scared him.

Whatever happens, he can't stand out here all night. His cigarettes are in the bedroom.

The handle squeaks and the door creaks like always when he opens it. Noel swears quietly and makes some kind of fumbling movement in the dark. "Sorry," Julian says automatically, thinking he's interrupted yet another wank, yet another reason he doesn't want to share a bed with this blithe shameless twit, but Noel speaks before he can pull the door closed and go and drown himself in the bath.

"Thought you'd gone out."

"Evidently."

"Calm down. I'm not fingering myself." He turns onto his side, back to the door. He's wearing a white t-shirt, glowing faintly orange in the dim light from the hallway lamp, and the covers are down around his waist showing a stripe of bare skin and the top of his red pants. Maybe it's easier talking when they're not looking at each other. He sounds sincere anyway, stumbling over his words. "Jules... I don't hate you. I'm just tired."

 _Me too_. "Right."

"Sorry I fucked up your shirt. But to be fair it _is_ the fucking ugliest thing I've ever seen."

"Just buy me a new one and we'll call it quits, hey?"

"No way. You can have one of mine."

"You're too short, titch."

"Belly tops are in."

"You lie."

"Yeah."

It's getting easier. Maybe it's not so bad. He's just paranoid, homesick, ready for massive things to happen that aren't coming as easily as they planned. Maybe Noel's the same, and maybe that's something to work harder for.

So he shuts the door quietly and toes off his trainers, goes to sit on the edge of the bed like he's waiting for permission, then gets out of his jeans and under the covers, facing the closed door and pulling the blankets taut between them. They're not lying that close together but he can feel Noel's body heat like he's a soft little radiator.

"What time is it?"

"Don't know. Nearly two."

"Early night."

"Mm."

"In comparison."

"Yeah."

"Can I tell you something?" Noel says, and Julian feels sick in his stomach like he's falling. This is it, then. He's had enough, this is where it ends.

"What?"

"Show you something, I mean. Why I don't like sharing rooms with people. Don't laugh. You can't laugh, it's not meant to be funny but everyone laughs."

"What?"

Shuffling, bouncing, the shriek of springs as Noel turns over. Julian can hear him breathing somewhere behind his ear. He doesn't want to say anything again, the moment drags out like stretching toffee. Then something soft slides over his shoulder and tucks into his neck, pressed up against his chin.

"What the-"

"Don't laugh," Noel interrupts quietly. "Please."

That's how Julian first meets Cadbury.

 

...

 

Years later, it's hard to remember how it used to be. Success builds slowly, and it's better that way. Starving for it and gorging themselves if those first flickers of glory actually pushed them mainstream would have ruined everything, brought it all collapsing down, but seeing it all creep together like this is something to keep getting out of bed for. It doesn't matter how long it takes. It's happening. Hairstyles change, weights yo-yo, other friendships come and go, they fill rooms with old school exercise books full of notes and felt-tip pen scribbles of fantastical worlds and things they know they'll never have time to play with in a million lifetimes, and nothing's ever boring and they never fight any more. "It's not normal," Mike says one day, draped backwards across Julian's lap with his legs over Noel's and his arse crammed between them because there's only two seats on the sofa. They're smoking huge crumbling joints that get more and more clumsily constructed as the night goes on, and it's making everything feel incredibly important, like Archimedes was a prophet and talking about _them_ when he said to move the world he just needed a good enough place to stand. "Artists are meant to be drama queens. You can't just _agree_ about everything, that's not normal."

That's not true. It's never been true and that's the whole point, that's why they work. There wouldn't _be_ a partnership if they weren't so different because two Vinces or two Howards would be boring as hell. Arguments happen, but never in their own voices. Uncle Pedro shouts at the Phantom, or the Hitcher and Rudi bicker on boring car journeys to pass the time. It's just the way things work. And things happen, boundaries meander all over the place and get rewritten. _Don't touch me_ loses its _don't_. Julian kisses Noel for the first time one New Year and there's no big drama, it doesn't matter if anybody sees them there in the corner of the party wasting away their midnight. Noel's got a red paper hat on and it crinkles and rustles under Julian's fingertips when he puts his hands there, stroking away some of the hairspray and kissing him with no passion but a bursting, impossible sort of love. It's the first time Noel's ever looked shy, when Julian lets him go. He keeps his eyes lowered, looking at the black winkle-pickers peeking out from his drainpipes and how they make a crooked broken arrowhead pointing between Julian's scuffed converse.

"Happy New Year," he murmurs, but it comes out like a question and yes doesn't seem a strong enough word to contain this sudden soaring so Julian tips Noel's chin up and kisses him again until something breaks, it's suddenly funny and they start laughing. Later back in the flat there's not much laughing, but there's gasping and whimpers and Julian's name sounds beautiful when it's breathed out like that through wet flushed lips. It's something he's not thought about for a long time, not since strange drug-fuelled nights at university that didn't count because they felt like dreams, but he curls his fingers close around Noel's cock and strokes, he wraps his lips round and teaches himself how to do it by the noises Noel's making. He goes on moving his mouth as Noel's coming, thrashing and whimpering, spitting it out over his cock and sucking until he's done, and looking up the length of his naked body the whole time, watching the faces he pulls, watching him wind his fingers around each other just for something to hold on to - then watching him clutch his old brown teddy bear in both hands instead, squeezing around its tummy and sobbing a grateful noise into the back of its head.

"I had a dog," Julian says, because the room feels too still and quiet now Noel's shut up. "He looked like Sweep but he wasn't Sweep. I didn't like him watching me have a wank, I used to turn him round on the shelf to look at the wall. Like he could be corrupted or something. Like he'd disapprove."

"Cadbury don't disapprove of anything, he seen all my mum and dad's parties when we were kids." Noel's gone ridiculously shy again now it's over, closing his legs and bringing his knees up towards his body, trying to drag the duvet up. Julian smacks his hand away and slides his own up Noel's legs to open them again, he can't fight off this urge just to _look_ at him. Noel's reluctant but doesn't say anything and doesn't try to resist, he just holds his bear across his face to hide how he's blushing. "If you gave me stubble burn on my nutsack you're a dead man."

"Shut up. There's more hair on your balls than my face."

"That's nice. Do you talk to everyone you sleep with like that?"

"You're different."

"How?"

Because if Mike was right and they're not normal then that's fine, they'll just have to be extraordinary instead.

"Just are," Julian says quietly. He moves up the bed, jabbing his fingers into Noel's ribs until he shifts across a bit and they can share a pillow. "Move that bear out the way."

"Why?"

"So I can kiss you."

"Your breath smells like sperms."

"Shall I not bother next time?"

"Next time," Noel repeats, and laughs like a child, all giddy and exhilarated. He takes the bear away from his face and lets Julian kiss him, but then Julian feels him move it down between them and feels its furry paw circling over the front of his underwear.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Cadbury's more open-minded than your dog." He can't think up a good enough response to that so he leaves it. Noel nudges against Julian's shoulder until he rolls over onto his back, softly humming _The Teddy Bears' Picnic_ and walking the bear down Julian's chest, making it nuzzle its nose against the fabric of his pants. "It's nice having a little brother, you got to play with kiddy toys years longer than you should."

"Not like this, I hope."

"If Mike ever humped his bears his did it without my help, thank you." He starts making kiss noises, gently bumping the bear's snout off Julian's skin just above the waistband. "Take your pants off. Cadbury can't do it, he hasn't got opposable thumbs."

"You're ridiculous." Of course he does it anyway, sliding them down his legs and kicking them off somewhere onto the floor, and waiting there, dizzy and slightly disturbed, to see what happens next; it's the bear's rounded tummy sliding up the length of his cock and back down, its little nose brushing against his balls. Looking down, Julian can see its legs flopping about where the stuffing's settled away from its joints with age. "This is so wrong."

"He loves it. Cadbury's a _slut_ , you wanna see what he gets up to when he goes out clubbing."

"It itches."

"As if it does. He's nice and soft. He feels a bit inferior though... look, you sit him on you like this it looks like he's got a massive willy." He's chattering on because he's nervous, it's so obvious. He touches Julian hesitantly like he doesn't know what to do even though he's got one himself. "Is that nice?"

"Faster."

"That?"

"Yes."

In the morning Julian puts the bear into the washing machine and Noel spends half the cycle sitting glumly on the kitchen floor with the tip of his thumb between his lips, watching Cadbury's little face go round and round behind the window.

 

...

 

And then there's the time he wakes up in the night to Noel crying desperately like a lost child, wet and helpless and not even trying to stop. His hand is slimy with tears and snot when Julian reaches over to hold it, swallowing away the musty taste of sleep in his mouth and blinking his eyes to drag himself awake enough to find out what's wrong.

"Bad dream?" he manages. The words are drawling and crooked, they sound nothing like they should, but Noel must understand well enough because Julian feels him shaking his head.

"I just woke up and Cadbury's eye's fell off."

"Jesus Christ, is that all?"

"You're right, it's nothing," Noel says after a moment. He sniffles loudly and snatches back his hand. Julian drifts back into sleep without meaning to, and in the morning he finds Noel's moved all his things into the empty room next door. They don't fuck any more but it's the first night of the tour they spend apart - and the last, because Julian finds the nearest corner shop and brings back a tiny tube of superglue like a peace offering. Noel bites his thumbnail short and jagged while he's watching Julian fix the eye back onto the bear, then he silently starts moving his things back in.

"I know it's stupid," he says, one night in Leeds when Julian thinks he's already asleep.

"Hmm?"

"Keeping this bear."

"Oh. No."

"I know it's just a bear."

"Well-"

"But he's _my_ bear," he interrupts, stubborn and fierce as if Julian said it wasn't.

"I know."

It's quiet after that, just gentle breathing and the scattering sound of rain against the window.

"Ju?" Noel whispers, when Julian thinks he's asleep again.

"What?"

"He lives in my pants drawer. I haven't even shown Dee. Or Dave. Anyone. _Mike_ don't even know I've still got him."

"Why?"

"Private."

"Why do I get to know?"

Noel just reaches out in the darkness and starts stroking Julian's hair, finally falling asleep with his fingers tangled there and the old brown bear pressed between them.

 

...

 

There's something monumentally terrifying about breaking the news but everything's fine. It's always going to be fine.

"Twins," Noel repeats blankly, like he's not sure what the word means, then he breaks out into a brilliant smile. "Look at you, sperminator."

"Shut up," Julian mutters, but he smiles into the tickle of dyed black hair on his face when Noel hugs him. Their parents have already started buying things in an explosive fit of excitement, tiny socks and tiny hats and tiny little sleepsuits, but nobody's bought any bears yet and he's glad. Like Noel said, some things are private. Maybe he'll get them rabbits instead.


End file.
